Threshold

In Which Our Heroes Return to the Mainland.

They spent three days at sea, sailing back from the Korinn Archipelago to the mainland. Some of them felt a bit feverish on the first day, perhaps as a result of their rat bites, but it passed soon enough. After the supernatural storm, the weather was nothing but good to them, and on the afternoon of the third day, they saw Daggerford.

Eilir smiled. “Once we get to my home and Daddy knows I’m safe, I’ll be happy to help you around town. I need to go dress shopping anyway.”

She led them through town, grinning and waving at passersby. They made their way to the Money Quarter, where the Stormweather villa stood next to a small park. The house was well-appointed, if a bit smaller than some of the surrounding buildings. Eilir broke into a run at the sight, forcing the others to keep up.

The guard at the gate almost fell down when he saw Eilir; he fumbled the gate open and waved her to the front door. The rest of the party caught up to her as she wrestled with the front door.

“When was the last time you saw your father?” Alistina asked.

“About two months ago. Just before those slavers got me.” Eager to bring an end to his worrying, she threw the door open and went inside, closely followed by the others.

Several small pillars stood around the villa’s parlor, each displaying a treasure or souvenir from some part of the Sword Coast. They heard the voices of two men coming from a room ahead. Eilir knew one of those men to be her father, Ronan Stormweather. “Daddy, I’m home!” she called, and the voices stopped at once.

“Eilir?” Ronan replied. “Eilir, darling?”

She ran down the hall, seeing her father emerge from his study. Weeks of worry fell away from his kind face at the sight of his daughter; as they embraced, Ronan scooped her up and spun her around once or twice.

“Eilir!” he shouted. “Valkur be praised, child, I thought I’d lost you!”

As the other adventurers drew closer to the scene, Ronan set Eilir down to get a look at her, and a halfling emerged from the office behind Ronan.

“Oh, Daddy, it was horrible! They took me prisoner and made me wear these awful clothes and they stole my pretty dress… but I made new… well, friends… and we all escaped together, and guess who navigated the ship back here? ME!”

Ronan offered a very polite bow to Theronna, and again to Alistina; the women replied in kind. “I can’t thank you enough,” said Ronan, “for bringing my angel back to me.”

“Ronan,” said the halfling, “back to the problem with your mine.” Zeke’s eyes widened at the halfling’s audacity. Who was he to interrupt this emotional moment?

“Yes, Mr. Thorngage. Yes.” Ronan stepped out of the way so the group could see the halfling. “This is Lyle Thorngage.”

The halfling looked them over, but his attention remained fixed on Ronan. No one in the group offered greeting to this stranger, and silence reigned for a moment.

“Daddy,” Eilir finally said, “I hate these rags. I need a new dress.”

“I, uh… I’m not sure I can do that right now, darling.” Seeing Eilir’s pout, Ronan continued: “Do you remember that silver mine I told you about? Up in the hills, the one that Talbot fellow wanted stake money for?”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Alistina muttered to Theronna. Zeke wanted to leave, but was having trouble getting a word in.

In Which Our Heroes Escape the Island.

The castaways rested. By the time they felt ready to press on, they could hear scratching at the top of the collapsed shaft. The prospect of facing more goblins or orcs convinced them to make haste.

They followed the tunnel behind the secret door to a vast underground chamber, its walls beyond the range of Alistina’s light of Lunia. To the east they saw three niches, similar to the storerooms above; one section of the south wall looked like smooth, worked stone.

Theronna, now recovered from her ghoul fever, started toward the first niche, the others trailing behind her. A brick wall separated the chamber from the next niche; it contained an upraised slab of stone in its exact center. Idly touching the tender wound on his chest left by the crossbow trap, Zeke moved closer to the slab, saying “Somebody with keener eyes’n mine should check this out…”

Eilir, who’d been standing behind Zeke, nodded and moved to examine the room. Alistina moved to the second niche, where she found a similar slab, with the body of a man upon it.

In Which an Old Man's Treachery Takes Its Toll.

“He’s dead,” Alistina said, not finding a pulse along Osric’s neck. Zeke stared at Theronna, dumbfounded. The soldier took no notice, her attention fixed on the old man’s body, her face glistening with sweat and scarlet.

“We need to find that boat, now.” Eilir wasn’t sure if she should be shocked or grateful. She looked at the map and moved down the hall, wand out. “I don’t want to stay down here and test fate.”

“She’s right,” said Alistina. “I don’t want to be around for the destruction of the island.”

“Ya didn’t have to kill ‘im,” Zeke said softly to Theronna before turning away.

“Sure she did.” Alistina moved to where she could see Theronna’s face. “You did, didn’t you?” Getting no reply, she followed Eilir and Zeke down the tunnel.

Theronna knelt beside Osric, closing the old man’s eyes. “Sorry, Osric,” she sighed, holding his limp white hair in her hand. “One day I’ll meet you on the other side.”

The long white hair reminded her of a man in Waterdeep, the man who met the VIPs she’d escorted there. That’s right, she wasn’t attacked on the way to Waterdeep; it was on the way back. That man wasn’t to be trusted, either. What was his name…?

She coughed, the first in a chain of hacking coughs; she pulled herself together, then started after the others.

They moved into the cross-hall, which ran nearly two hundred feet to the other side of the manor, with several sets of double doors on either side.

“Intellego!” Eilir spoke the wand’s command word, bringing its detection magic to life. Paying close attention to its rosy glow as she walked, the wizard bumped into Zeke, muttering an apology and trying to hide her blushing face by looking intently at the floor.

Alistina saw the wand’s glow brighten a bit when they reached the midpoint of the hall. Before she could say anything, Theronna pointed to the north and said “Someone’s coming.”

In Which Our Heroes Hide and Sneak.

The castaways awakened from fitful sleep, the dawn which greeted them muted by the ongoing storm – and by the goddess’s ultimatum.

“So, old timer,” Alistina said to Osric, “we better get off this island today.”

Zeke frowned at his growling stomach. “Some grub’d be nice, too. Ain’t too keen on the notion-a sneakin’ through the goblins on a empty stomach.”

“Can’t help with food,” replied Osric. “Mebbe we kin fish off th’ boat once we’re away.”

Disappointed, Zeke busied himself with Hafkris’s crossbow.

“Sure you know how to use that thing?” Alistina asked.

“Sure’n I do. Point an’ click. Ain’t a simpler weapon out there that ain’t a stick.”

He smiled as if he’d made a joke; Alistina couldn’t be sure if he had. Eilir obviously had her doubts, but said nothing, packing up her spellbook once she was finished with it.

Stetching himself out with a riot of cracks and pops, Osric said “Manor’s about a thousand yards north. There’s a depression we kin use ta sneak most of th’way to it. All th’entrances ‘re guarded, but thar’s a window with loose bars I been usin’ ta git in ‘n’ out.”

“Won’t we anger the goddess too?” asked Eilir, wringing rainwater out of her hair.

“Nah. Th’orcs came to plunder, and they made a terrible mess o’things. If ya just come to spend the night ye’ll be safe.”

Seeing Theronna’s actions, Alistina began to do the same, not wanting to go without a fire for lack of fuel.

They followed back trails and crossed rough terrain until they came to a hill, topped by a two-story structure that had seen better days, surrounded by a wrought iron fence. No lights, smoke, or other sign of habitation could be seen. Osric opened the fence’s rusty gate with an alarming squeal and led the way to the front door.

In Which Our Heroes Gather, and Our Story Begins.

The ship lurched in the storm for hours without end. The forward hold was devoid of all light, the noise deafening. Four desperate souls lay shackled to their bunks in that darkness, each in their own private agony.

All at once, the crashing sound of the waves was drowned out by a tremendous crash which caused the entire ship to shudder – she must have run aground.

Shortly came the sound of snapping spars and a great crash which could only have been the mast coming down. The prisoners were thrown forward, but were rooted to the spot by their shackles, bringing fresh agony to bruised and chafing wrists.

The impact shattered the ship’s bow, tearing it away entirely and allowing a sharp blast of cold air and rain into the hold. A great boulder ground against the port side of the ship, buckling one of the bunks as the ship ground to a halt.

Then there was only the sound of fierce wind and pounding surf, and the sight of rain-pounded beach outside of the open bow.